Blood Fox
by AngelicStorm
Summary: Privileged slave Trinity attempts to distance herself from Legion and her complicated relationship with Vulpes Inculta. A task that proves difficult with a companion whose hatred for Legion runs deep, and Caesar's mark still upon her. Courier/Boone/Vulpes
1. Chapter 1

I've been playing a lot of New Vegas lately and came across this idea I just couldn't leave alone. No idea how long this will be yet, but I'm hoping for at least twelve chapters. We'll see. Enjoy and please, REVIEW!

BLOOD FOX

Vikki and Vance Casino was packed almost to capacity. It was nearly midnight on a Saturday, and the tables were full of people who were either desperate to win back the caps they'd lost the night before, desperate to pay off their loan sharks, or were just compulsive gamblers. The entire building smelled of sweat and alcohol, and Trinity wanted out. Bad. The cashier wasn't exactly brightening her day.

Trinity drummed her fingers on the counter impatiently, waiting for the cashier to exchange her chips. The woman always moved painfully slow, as if she were an elderly woman in a young woman's body. Speaking of bodies, the man waiting behind her wasn't shy about his interest in hers. His gaze remained fixed on her full hips as he contemplated the logic behind her wearing pants that tight in the Mojave. He seriously doubted that anything hugging her curves that tight could breathe in the desert. That, however, was much less important than the waves of black hair that flowed over her shoulders. The lower half of her hair was a vibrant shade of red that had drawn a considerable amount of attention from the moment she'd walked in the door. Hair dyes were practically unheard of in the desert. Catching a glance at the man out of the corner of her eye, Trinity turned to him and scowled. The anger in her brown eyes made him back off immediately. Annoyed, she turned back to the counter rolling her eyes. The situation was pissing her off more than the man was.

'This place would still be a shithole if it wasn't for me, and they have the audacity to charge me,' Trinity thought bitterly.

Even after she'd killed every last convict in the town –with absolutely no help from the NCR, useless bastards- the owners still hadn't seen fit to even toss her the occasional free beer. Granted, she may not have entirely deserved it, having put three twelve gauge rounds in their previous sheriff's head during her little killing spree. As she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the low counter, she found herself thinking. Now that the casino was operational and pulling in some serious caps, it was time she collected her 'reward money'. Watching the woman pull the safe open to retrieve the caps, Trinity smirked. She could see the neat piles of caps within. There had to be hundreds of caps in there. Thousands.

Quietly, she reached into her vest for her shotgun. This would be quick and sweet. No idle threats. If anyone made a wrong move, they'd die. The cashier, the man behind her, the little girl by the door; anyone. She just needed to draw the cashier's attention so she wouldn't close the safe. Too easy.

Turning her head sharply to the left, Trinity's eyes widened with fear. "Deathclaw!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. The level of mass panic that followed was far greater than she'd expected. While the casino was in an uproar, she retrieved her sawed-off shotgun, Triad. The cashier now found herself staring down three gun barrels. Her hands immediately flew up into the air. Immediately, Trinity waved away the rest of the customers and stepped forward, throwing a large empty bag onto the counter.

"Put all the caps in here. And I mean every last fucking one," she growled. "Try anything, and I start redecorating Primm with pieces of your skull. You have less than thirty seconds."

Trinity frowned when she saw that the woman had yet to start moving. With a smirk, she clicked off the safety. "Twenty."

Immediately, the cashier grabbed the bag and began to shovel in handfuls of caps despite her violently trembling hands.

Suddenly, Trinity could feel a revolver barrel buried in her hair. She could feel the cold steel against her scalp. Her world instantly went red. The gun rested dangerously close to the small bald spot on her head where Benny had shot her, not one month ago. **_Benny_**. The name itself made her want to cough up her own heart. If anyone had earned a bullet from Triad, it was him. Never had anyone spent so much time building her up to try to gun her down.

_'You know Benny would never hurt you, baby.'_

_'I love you more than anything. You're platinum, pussycat.'_

Yeah? Fuck you.

At one time, she'd actually thought she could fall for Benny. He was the sweet-talking, charmer type. Granted, she usually hated men who were attractive and knew it, but Benny knew just when to stop bragging and compliment her instead. It was easy to mistake him for someone trustworthy. He'd bought her hundreds if not thousands of caps worth of gifts. Who would invest so much into someone they intended to kill? Only Benny. HE was the one who suggested she become a courier. HE turned her on to the job that landed her with The Platinum Chip. It hadn't even occurred to him that she didn't know, nor did she care to know what the chip was or did. That she would have handed it over to him willingly if he'd only asked.

_'From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an 18-carat string of bad luck. But the truth is, the game was rigged from the start.'_

So it was. So. It. Was.

There was no chance in hell she was about to be shot in the head again. It was clear to her that out of everyone there, Nash was the only one that would have the balls to do it. Suddenly, all eyes were on them.

"Johnson, your wife is going to become a widow in about three seconds. Don't be a hero," Trinity told him in an unsettlingly calm tone. Nash had only begun to remove the safety when Trinity turned and brought her heavy shotgun across his knuckles, making him drop his gun.

"You don't know how to listen," she whispered harshly, pressing her gun against his forehead. Noting the audience she now had, Trinity turned to speak to the rest of the casino.

"Mister Johnson Nash, ladies and gentlemen!" she yelled in her best announcer voice. Looking the man in the eyes, she hesitated only a moment before pulling the trigger. Screams and startled gasps echoed throughout the room as the remaining pieces of Nash's head splattered over the clothes of bystanders.

"_Nash_, was a hero.." Trinity started. "I, do not tolerate, heroes!" Everyone took a large step back as she swept her gun back and forth over the crowd. "Every person in here, drop everything you've got and put your hands on the back of your head in the next three seconds or I will assume that you want to be a hero as well." The room obediently complied.

Trinity moved back to the counter and fired a warning shot into the cashier's booth. "Your time is up! Bring me the bag, now! Throw a few hundred Denarius in the bag too. Com'on, move it," she urged. If this holdup took any longer than a few minutes, the NCR up the road would be informed before she could make a clean getaway. The cashier forced the bag through the small opening and immediately hid beneath the counter, out of range. Trinity had to hold back a laugh. People weren't getting any smarter.

The cashier waited, holding her breath. She never saw the live grenade being rolled into the booth until the moment before the soft metal clink reached her ears and her body was filled with shrapnel.

Caps in hand, Trinity carefully moved around the patrons toward the door. She was done here. Every person around her was a statue with living eyes. No one moved an inch. Perfect. Even so, as soon as she stepped out of the door, a high pitched alarm began to sound on all corners of the building.

'Damn. NCR will have heard that already.'

Trinity had a backup plan in place, but it was risky. If there were any high ranking officers currently at the NCR post up the road, she could be spotted and apprehended. Still, it was the only plan she had left.

At the NCR post, a squad of troopers were arming themselves to investigate the source of the alarm from the casino. It was probably just a couple of drunks having a brawl, but with the Legion threat moving closer each day, they couldn't afford to just ignore it. The squad leader looked over his subordinates one final time before giving the go ahead to start up the road. It was at that moment that a woman began to approach him; a Lieutenant from the insignia on her jacket. She swept a stray hair back into her bun before speaking to him. Saluting her, he immediately called for his subordinates to stop.

"Well this inspection is off to a fine start," she said sarcastically. "I just received a report that three armed men have robbed the Vikki and Vance casino and are headed Northwest. Shall I assume that you and your squad will be capable of apprehending them? This area is, after all, your responsibility. If not, I can always request that station Echo handle the situation. Although it is quite out of their way… Won't earn you any favor with the General though."

The squad leader tensed and set his jaw. An armed robbery meant that the entrance guards were sleeping on the job, or the fence had been breached without their knowledge. Either way, it showed a remarkable amount of incompetence on his part. He couldn't allow her to call in another team to clean up his mess. If that happened, at best he would be relieved of his duties. He didn't want to think about the worst case scenario.

"No. We are fully capable of handling this, I assure you," he replied, nervously stumbling over his words. The lieutenant folded her arms impatiently.

"Get to it then," she ordered. Without another word, the troopers took off into the Mojave at top speed. Strolling away from the post, Trinity chuckled and began to take down her bun. NCR was really falling off.

Now the path was clear for her to make her way to The Strip; but she couldn't go straight there. She was confident in her ability to wield a gun and keep desert scum off her back. Despite this, she wanted someone to watch her back. Someone she could count on to land the shots she couldn't, and who would do whatever she asked without question or complaint.

There were plenty of caps at her disposal now, and plenty of time to make herself scarce. She planned to hide out at an old motel to the east she'd heard of called Novac. There were plenty of cheap rooms there. Novac was low profile and discreet; exactly what she needed now. And by the time that squad would return to their post and learn what actually happened, she would be halfway there.

People were definitely not getting any smarter. At least, not smart enough to catch the Blood Fox.


	2. Chapter 2

I've raised the rating to M, just to cover my bases for chapters to come. I think I'll be changing POV every now and then throughout the story. It's always better to get more than one viewpoint. ;) I appreciate the reviews!

'It's hot as shit out here'

It had been a full day since Trinity managed to escape persecution by NCR. For nearly sixteen hours she had walked, taking only the briefest moments to rest. Every hour she rested was an hour for the NCR to catch up with her; though she was only mildly worried. The only two people in the casino who had seen her face clearly enough to give a description were the cashier, and Johnson. Both of whom she'd swiftly executed before leaving. Her hair color was a dead give away, but she'd kept it neatly hidden away beneath a large hat when passing through towns. After a couple of weeks they would give up the search, she knew. NCR had bigger worries.. like prying their dead comrades off of Legion crucifixes.

Trinity didn't want to think about Legion. She didn't want to think about _him_. No, more than anything, she didn't want to think about what he was. The problem was that his name and his voice followed her wherever she went. She recalled the moment before she'd shot Johnson. She would have staked all the caps she was stealing that she'd heard his voice then.

_'Blow him to hell.'_

She'd done just that. It was her own decision, but she still felt as if he'd somehow guided her hand. They were that much alike it seemed. They were both murderers in their own right. The key difference was that he'd come to enjoy it. To be blunt, the man got off on it. Trinity didn't claim to be a saint. Over the years she'd killed more than her share for caps, or food, sometimes for much less than that; pride. But to kill for pure pleasure… That was the very definition of Vulpes, and she couldn't understand it, hard as she tried.

* * *

><p><p>

As confident as she was in her ability to eventually find a way to escape Legion slavery, Trinity's morale had already been shaken by the tales of ex-slaves and passing merchants. From the moment she'd been captured by Legion, Trinity had expected their trademark cruelty. However, it was a completely different story once they had you chained with an explosive collar constricting your airway.

The wood of the auction block splintering her bare feet, Trinity looked out into the crowd of Legion bidders. There were hundreds of men there, staring up at her in the old slave rags they'd dressed her in. Her face and body was caked with sand and dirt from the journey to the auction site. She hadn't even been allowed a bath for more than three days now. Even after the medical examination she was forbidden from bathing. Likely the Legion didn't want to misrepresent their 'products' with excessive grooming. Many slaves wouldn't receive so much maintenance when bought, as it was.

The humiliation was debilitating. Before she had time to truly begin to feel sorry for herself, a guard had dragged her to the front of the stage. Shoving her roughly toward the crowd, he signaled for the auctioneer to begin.

_'The next slave we have for sale is of unknown origin. First name Trinity, last name is also unknown. She stands at five feet, seven inches tall. Medium skin, black hair, brown eyes, nineteen years old. Healthy and free of radiation and disease. Suitable for work or 'leisure'. Upon her capture patrols discovered large amounts of fine handmade soaps and grooming items which she claims to have created herself; a skill which will affect the starting price. Excellent breeding material. Virginal. We start the bidding at three thousand caps._'

The auctioneer had purposely saved that last bit of info for the end, and rightly so. The moment he had finished speaking, the crowd erupted into a whirlwind of eager bids. Four thousand caps. Five thousand. Ten thousand caps. The final sale stood at eleven thousand caps. Trinity stood motionless and waited to be claimed by the unseen winning bidder.

At that moment, the rowdy audience suddenly fell silent. One of Caesar's finest stepped forward from the royal booth. It was none other than head Frumentarii, Vulpes Inculta. He calmly exited the booth and strolled through the crowd, every man moving to clear him a path. No one said a word as he made his way onto the stage next to her. Circling her, Vulpes examined her closely, undressing her with his eyes. A brief exchange of whispered words were passed between him and the auctioneer before Vulpes was handed a rusty key.

'SOLD. For the sum of… Fifty thousand caps.'

If any man bidding had more to offer for her, they wouldn't have challenged Vulpes. If he had offered seven caps for her against eleven thousand, he still would have won on principle. Caesar's right hand had reached out for something and no one dared take it away. When she was brought to the fort, not even Caesar himself touched her. Trinity was his gift to Vulpes. A reward for a job well done.

Her work was hard, but not unreasonable. She was made to produce the richest soaps and oils for Caesar, Vulpes, Praetorians, and Frumentarii. It fell on her to keep them clean and well-groomed – a shining example for their underlings to look up to and obey. Anything that kept her from the back breaking work of the other slaves was welcome to her.

Unlike the consorts of other high-ranking Legionaries, Trinity resided in Vulpes' private tent, rather than the slave quarters. There was a lot of initial fear on Trinity's part that beneath this Frumentarii's vicious, torture-loving exterior there was an even more vicious, torture-loving interior with unslaked sexual desires. These fears were put on hold, however.

For more than two weeks she slept in the same bed with him.. and he did nothing. During the day he would acknowledge her with looks, and occasionally request that she fetch his meals. At night, he would call her to bed and fall asleep with her next to him. Not that she was complaining, but it was rather strange that he would devote so little attention to her for the price he'd paid. It made her uneasy. Was he just toying with her? Had he really paid for just her crafting skills? It didn't make any sense.

One afternoon when he was away from the fort, she ventured out of his tent and into the slave quarters. Hopefully someone there would be able to tell her what to expect from Vulpes. The slave women inside recognized the signature brand on her shoulder, but they frowned when they saw how well-kept she was. Although she wore the clean, pressed dress of a free woman, the ugly red X of the legion was still splattered across her chest. This was the girl that Inculta had paid a more than tidy sum for. Trinity was some of Legion's finest 'furniture', and the slaves treated her as such; as a piece of inanimate furniture. A slightly older, gamely slave in her mid twenties was the only one who would speak with her. What she found out was less than reassuring.

"Vulpes.. luck must be your mortal enemy," the woman had said, paying more attention to the fresh apple Trinity had offered than the girl herself. Fresh food was rare for ordinary Legion slaves. Their diet mainly consisted of whatever scraps were left behind after meals. An apple was more than enough motivation to speak to this nervous looking young girl who was unfortunate enough to be the fox's favorite.

"What can you tell me about him?" Trinity asked. It was hard for her to go ten seconds without looking over her shoulder, expecting to see Vulpes standing there.

The slave woman took another large bite of the apple. "The man is a monster," she started with her mouth full. "But not your average monster. He leaves the fort, maims, kills, and destroys, and when he returns Caesar gives him a loving pat on the head. That much doesn't concern us as slaves. The problem is that he treats female slaves the same way. Vulpes is merciless. If you don't bleed then he isn't satisfied."

"He hasn't even touched me," Trinity explained.

"'Course not," the woman replied. "Not hell week yet."

Trinity tilted her head in confusion. "Hell week?"

"See, unlike the rest of these dogs, Vulpes has a set 'cycle' that even Caesar recognizes. Every couple weeks, for whatever reason, the man just… snaps. You ain't seen shit like it unless you've seen someone overdosing on psycho. Caesar plans all of his most brutal assaults for that week, when Vulpes is the most dangerous. Not even Lanius will cross him during then. As for us, well.. we hide. Every night of that week from sundown to sunup."

"Won't he find you? The fort isn't the biggest place to hide in.."

The woman tucked away the rest of the apple in her rags and turned her full attention to Trinity. "He'll find a FEW of us," she said grimly. "You don't want to be one of the few. Sometimes he goes too far and.." she trailed off. "You won't be alive to hide the next night."

xxx

Trinity almost wished she had never asked about him. It was more nerve-wracking just _waiting_. When he'd called for his meal that night she'd nearly dropped his dinner tray. Fingers trembling, she attempted to set out his silverware, with little success.

"You've been to the slave quarters," Vulpes said suddenly. He could see the surprise on her face, followed by confusion as she replayed the events of the day in her mind, searching for the answer to how he'd found out. The nervousness she displayed was more than enough to give her away. "Seems you've heard some, not-so-pleasant stories about me."

Rising from his seat at the table, Vulpes moved in swiftly to corner her. Her fear was practically palpable for him. "Was your visit sufficiently educational, or should I fill in the gaps?" he whispered.

"I.. I think I've heard enough," Trinity stammered. She shrieked as Vulpes grabbed her around her waist and threw her onto his bed. Perched on top of her like a starved predator, Vulpes pinned her arms on either side of her head. Despite his smaller frame, she felt that he was crushing the wind out of her.

He smiled, flashing his unnaturally sharp canines. "Oh, but seeing is believing."

"I don't believe everything I hear," she choked out. Already slavery had made her weak; she could feel it. Timid, softspoken, and meek. She was hardly Trinity anymore. The woman her parents had raised had all but died in the wake of her capture.

"Is that right?" Vulpes asked incredulously.

_Well not anymore._

"They call you a monster," she continued, no longer afraid to meet his gaze. He smirked a little at her words. It was clear he saw it as a compliment.

"And rightly so," he replied, beaming.

Trinity shifted unexpectedly beneath his grip, surprising him. "I don't believe that," she started. "Monster. The title alone gives you too much power. You're merely a man, Vulpes."

Vulpes cringed as she said his name. It was unnatural for a slave to call him anything other than 'sir' or 'master'. To him the act itself felt like a loss of control. Like this girl was somehow gaining an upper hand on him.

A fierce scowl began to twist the Frumentari's features, and still Trinity continued. "You were born, you will live, and you will DIE, a man. Nothing more."

Vulpes had heard enough of her disrespectful opinions. The fingers of his free hand quickly wrapped around the soft strands of her dark hair, pulling until the girl's head arched back and she shrieked with pain. "Are you so comfortable that you forget your place, slave?" he growled.

"Are you so ignorant that you aren't aware of yours?" she spat. "You'd like to think that because you're Caesar's right hand, you can't be touched. But put a few twelve gauges in your heart and you'd go down just like anyone else. You're not an immortal. You're not a God-" Vulpes silenced her with another sharp tug of her hair.

"GOD, is trying to keep up," he hissed through gritted teeth. "If you think that you're a goddamn expert on who I am…" he paused, lowering his mouth to her ear. "You are DEAD wrong."

Twisting her body a full 180 degrees, Trinity managed to move out from under him. He still maintained a tight grip on her hair however, and before she could react, he had lifted her from the bed and thrown her into the dining table. Trinity could feel the pain of the impact spreading through her ribs even before she hit the cold ground. The dinner tray clattered to the ground as the table splintered beneath her.

His lips curling up into a snarl, Vulpes brushed his hip, expecting to find his sword there. When he found nothing, his gaze shifted to the sword stand beside his opponent. Without pausing to consider it, Trinity snatched the sword from its stand and turned the blade on Vulpes. He crossed his arms in front of him, showing no signs of fear or submission.

"Don't be a fool. Killing me won't grant you freedom. Without my protection you'd be just another one of Caesar's pack Brahmin."

Trinity hesitated, loosening her grip on the sword's hilt. As true as his words were, she didn't want her struggle to be for nothing. Two Legates burst into the tent at that moment. She wouldn't have time to just mull it over. Her eyes traveling from the two men to the blade in her hand, Trinity lunged at Vulpes with the sword, leaving a large gash on his neck. Desperately trying to cover the wound with his hands, Vulpes fell to his knees. The Legionaries immediately seized her, calling for a medic to tend to their injured leader. As the medic ran into the tent and the girl was dragged away, the Frumentarii glared at her with pure rage in his eyes.

"I will see you BURN for this!" Vulpes screamed after her.

* * *

><p>The funny thing was, she never did.<p>

Vulpes recovered quickly. Remarkably quickly. Trinity couldn't help but feel that anger had sped his healing. Yet when his underlings asked how she was to be disposed of, he gave no order. She was returned to his tent as if she'd never tried to murder the man. It was as if he held a new 'appreciation' for her unique brand of resistance. It would have been presumptuous of her to assume he now respected her, so she never did. Over time their relationship had turned into something that was neither love nor hate, but some strange hybrid of the two.

At the very least, thinking of Vulpes had passed a great deal of time. The colossal green dinosaur that marked the small town of Novac was just ahead. A good, long rest would help to drive thoughts of Vulpes from her mind, she was sure. Maybe she'd even have a skilled mercenary at her side in just a few days time.

Tilting her head up toward the mouth of the dinosaur, Trinity identified the movement that had caught her eye. The barrel of a sniper rifle was aimed directly at her, it's owner likely sizing her up as a threat. Half-smiling, she raised her hand and gave a small wave.

'Or maybe even a sniper…'


	3. Chapter 3

Apologies for the late update. :P As always, enjoy and please, review!

Mold.

If anyone had asked Trinity to describe Novac, she would have used only that word. She was used to the dilapidated ruins of the Mojave by now, but the layer of grime on this town was more than prohibitive. Unconsciously, she began rubbing at her eyes. She was dog-tired.

Already half asleep, Trinity could just barely make out the sign above the motel door as she entered.

'Dino Dee-lite' _Yeah. Real cute._

"How much for a room?" Trinity asked in a low drawl. She knew she probably sounded drunk to the old woman smiling at her from behind the counter. Jeannie May Crawford, she had been told.

"Hello! Welcome to the Dino-"

"HEY!" Trinity held up her hand for the woman to stop. She didn't know if the old bat hadn't heard her or was just that determined to spew out cheerful bullshit. "Listen up. I'm really tired, and I don't want to have 'friendly banter' right now." Trinity tossed a small bundle of caps onto the counter. "Give me the key to the best room in this dump, swiftly."

Jeannie May frowned and opened her mouth as if to protest. Her eyes never leaving Crawford's, Trinity reached into her vest and removed her guns safety as audibly as she could. "Swiftly."

. . .

Trinity slept like a rock. She'd always been a heavy sleeper, but since she'd recovered from the coma Benny had put her in, it was getting worse. Sleeping with her gun on her chest barely comforted her anymore. There was no real guarantee she would awaken quickly enough to use it.

As soon as she decided to open her eyes and take in the light of the day, the dull pounding in her head quickly escalated into a full migraine. Barely able to move, Trinity reached into her pocket for one of her buffout pills. She struggled to steady her breathing as her trembling fingers closed around the pill. Slowly, she reached up to place the pill on her tongue. She knew she should be taking them with water. She knew she needed to stop taking them altogether, but they were the only reason she'd been able to get out of bed in the mornings. Without the boost they gave her, she would be useless for the rest of the day.

Doc Mitchell had pulled the shrapnel from her brain, but even Trinity was aware the old man's skills were severely limited. She needed to see another doctor, and soon; one capable of correcting the damage on a deeper level. If not, she wasn't sure if she'd even live long enough to get the revenge she was after.

When she'd finally stumbled out of the sunken old bed, Trinity longed for a shower, but the erratic ticking of her Geiger counter next to the faucet warned her against it. This hellhole didn't even have clean water. Reaching into her bag for a purified bottle, Trinity stormed out into the town. She'd make this visit as quick as possible.

All things considered, she'd expected more resistance when she asked to speak with the town's sniper. The man was on duty for god sakes. Still, the gift shop owner Cliff Broscoe was more than willing to let her go upstairs and have a conversation. This town sure was comfortable. Silently, she pushed open the tattered door and saw that his back was to her, his hair the only part of him that moved. The last thing she wanted was to seriously startle a sniper.

"Hey," she whispered. She tried to keep it light and non-threatening. He turned slowly to face her, lowering his weapon as he realized she was unarmed.

"Hey…" he replied, looking her up and down. He was sure he'd never seen her around Novac, or anywhere else for that matter. It would be hard to forget that hair. Or that body.. "Uh.. you know, you're not really supposed to be up here."

Trinity smiled and leaned against the door. "Yet I stand before you." The smirk forming on his face made her certain that he wasn't planning on asking her to leave. "You have a name?"

"Yeah, um.. Manny. Manny Vargas," he told her, holding out his hand for her to shake. Briefly examining his hand, she noticed that they were exceptionally clean, with few rough spots. Sniping was likely the closest he got to combat or actual work on a daily basis. He probably paid others to repair his weapons, mend his clothes, and cook his food. Not terribly impressive. Still, she completed the handshake.

"Trinity. So.. you're Novac's sniper huh?"

Proudly, Vargas rested his gun on his shoulder. "Yeah. You see a rifle barrel sticking out of the dinosaur's mouth, you got a fifty-fifty shot it's me. Otherwise, its Boone."

"Boone?"

"Another guy, used to be first recon like me. We switch shifts around 9." For some reason, he seemed less than thrilled to be talking about the other sniper.

"First recon, hm? NCR then? " she asked, attempting to mask her disdain. NCR never did sit well with her. Bunch of control freaks who fancied themselves as saviors, above the 'Legion scum'. Truth was that they were just as bad. Possibly worse. They were a 'government'. Every pre-war book Trinity had read about governments made them seem like a bad idea.

"You bet," Vargas replied with gusto. Apparently he'd intended for this bit of information to impress her.

Trinity was ready to switch gears now. She wanted to hear more about the night sniper. Making accurate shots at night would be considerably more difficult than during the day. This guy Boone had to have been given the night shift for a reason. "So Boone's a friend of yours?"

Vargas narrowed his eyes and looked away. "Not exactly." Trinity nodded in understanding.

"Why are you on bad terms with him?"

With a sigh, he tapped the stock of his gun on his foot. A nervous habit."Me and his wife.. let's just say we didn't see eye to eye on some things. Most things, actually. One day she went missing, and he hasn't said a word to me since."

. . .

Cliff looked on as Trinity sat on the stairs to the sniper's nest, polishing her gun. Occasionally she'd catch his gaze and click off the safety, giving him a start. His reactions were a more than amusing way to pass the time while she waited for the night sniper to show. It had been reasonably difficult to get away from Vargas. He was under the distinct impression that her questions indicated some kind of romantic interest in him. Trinity had almost snorted with laughter when he'd offered to buy her a drink after his shift. Yeah right.

"Excuse me," she heard a man say. She could practically hear the testosterone in his voice. "You're in the way."

"Sorry," she quickly replied as she stood. He was much older than her; hardened, but.. handsome. Noting the scoped rifle on his back, Trinity smiled. This was her guy. "So, I know this might sound kind of strange, but.. I've been waiting for you."

Boone raised an eyebrow. Waiting for him? The last person to say that to him had put a submachine gun to his temple. "What do you want?" he grunted at her. Trinity faltered a bit. Despite the sunglasses he wore, she could tell he was already annoyed.

"Your name would be a start," she said, extending her hand for him to shake. "I'm Trinity."

For a long moment he stared at her. She stood there expectantly, batting her lashes at him. If he hadn't known better, he would swear she was flirting with him, but there was next to no chance in hell that was the case. "Craig Boone. Friends call me Boone," he said in a monotone, making the handshake as short as possible. This woman was young, barely out of her teens, and as much as he hated to admit it, attractive. He was sure she had to want something substantial from him to give him so much as a second glance.

Trinity tilted her head inquisitively."Who calls you Craig?"

"Not you," Boone replied bluntly.

Fighting back a scowl, Trinity looked away from him. "Right… I'm in the market for a partner. A bodyguard if you want to call it that. I mean really, what are they even paying you here?"

"Enough," Boone told her. Trinity scoffed.

"Yeah? Somehow I doubt it. You could do so much better than this rat trap. Whatever they're paying you, I can double it if you come with me."

Boone had heard just about enough from her. His shift had already started, and he would be held responsible for anything or anyone that happened to wander into the town while he held a conversation with this woman. Ignoring her words, he started up the stairs. "Not interested."

"LOOK, Boone. I can tell that none of the people here are your friends. Not even Vargas, despite how much he seems to know about you, and your wife.." she trailed off. The look on his face silenced her immediately.

"You don't know anything about my wife, and neither did he. And now.. You're done talking to me."

Exasperated, Trinity started to follow him. "All I'm asking is-"

Boone turned sharply and raised a hand to cut her off. "You're DONE."

xxx

The day had been little more than disappointing. For awhile it had seemed as if she'd only need to make one stop on her way to the Strip. So far all she'd found was a useless sniper and an emotionally damaged one. Beautiful.

It was the comment about his wife that ruined her pitch, she knew. Obviously it was a sensitive subject for him. She couldn't see why. Everyone else in town she'd spoken to had essentially identified her as a stuck up, albeit beautiful.. bitch. It was probably just as well he'd refused her offer. If his wife ever returned, at least he would be there for it.

Making her way back to the motel's lobby, Trinity scratched at an insistent itch on her scalp. She was more than anxious for a good, hot bath. Almost three days since the robbery and no leads.. NCR had likely moved on. It was time for her to move on as well.

Barely looking at the old woman behind the desk, Trinity began to poke at the small t-rex figurines on display. "What's the fastest way out of this dump?" she asked dismissively.

Jeannie May sneered at the young woman's rudeness. It was enough that she had practically demanded a room at gunpoint, but this was a direct shot at her and her property. "I own most of this 'dump'. It may not be the Strip, but it suits us just fine. You can jump out of a window, for all I care."

A bright smile spreading across her face, Trinity removed her gun from its holster and struck the old woman in the back of her head with all the strength she had. "Wrong answer."

Trinity strolled around the side of the desk toward Crawford's unconscious form. Well, at least the old bat was still breathing. Considering the fact that anyone could walk in at any moment, Trinity made quick work of patting down the woman for valuables. Only five caps and a key on her. No doubt the key was to the safe she'd had her eye on.

'_No reason I shouldn't loot this place_,' Trinity thought as she brushed the dust from the safe's handle. There was nothing too unusual inside. A few hundred caps, some pre-war money, and a carefully folded slip of paper. The paper she would have left alone were it not for the prominent red Legion seal that bled through one of its corners. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Trinity unfolded the parchment and began to read; the contents were less than heartwarming.

_'I'll be damned…'_

. . .

There was a cool chill in the air when Trinity returned to the sniper's nest. She couldn't be sure whether it was real or just in her mind. This was the Mojave after all. Boone stood silently at the edge of the dinosaur's mouth. One foot perched on a tooth, he leaned forward, looking down his scope into the darkness of the Mojave; his barrel moving almost independently of him as he swept it East and West in a slow, oval pattern. There was so much focus evident in his movements, she was certain he hadn't seen or heard her yet. Regardless of how foreboding the moment felt to her, she was sure this needed to be done.

"Boone.."

He didn't turn around. Her voice was still fresh in his mind from when they'd first spoken. "Hmph. It's you."

"I have a name, you know," she spat. Still, he refused to part his eye from his scope.

"I'm working. We have nothing to talk about."

"Fair enough. Let's get right down to it then. I have a gift for you."

A loud thud behind him captured Boone's attention. He turned slowly to discover the source of the noise. It was Jeannie May, the motel owner. She had been bound and gagged with torn bits of her own blouse. Her face was bruised and swollen; the imprint of a gun chamber still red on her cheek.

"What the hell have you done?" he yelled at her, reaching down to untie the old woman.

Trinity moved to block his path. "I wouldn't do that," she told him, reaching into her pocket for the document she'd found in the safe. Initially she'd planned to hand him the note and part ways, but there was an issue. There was no way for her to tell how advanced his reading skills were. If she wanted to be sure he got the message, she'd have to read it to him.

_"We, the representatives of the Consul Officiorum, have this day bargained and purchased from JEANNIE MAY CRAWFORD of the township of Novac the exclusive rights to OWNERSHIP AND SALE OF THE SLAVE CARLA BOONE for the sum of one thousand bottle caps, AND THOSE OF HER UNBORN CHILD for the sum of five hundred bottle caps, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged-"_

Trinity paused when she saw that Boone had dropped his gun. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, he fought back the sudden urge to vomit. This woman –if she could even be called that- had pretended to be in his corner; had even shed _tears_ when he'd told her his wife had gone missing.

_"We warrant the slave and her young to be sound, healthy, and SLAVES FOR LIFE. We covenant with the said, JEANNIE MAY CRAWFORD, that we have full power to BARGAIN AND SELL said slave and her offspring. Payment of AN ADDITIONAL FIVE HUNDRED BOTTLE CAPS will be due pending SUCCESSFUL MATURATION OF THE FETUS, the claim to which shall be guaranteed by possession of this document. M. Scribonius Libo Drusus et al. Administrators of M. Licinius Crassus, Consul Officiorum ab Famulatus."_

It was over so quickly. A neutral observer, Trinity watched as Boone knocked the woman to the ground with the end of his gun. His glasses made him almost expressionless as he shot her in both kneecaps; her right shoulder. Boone stood over her wordlessly, the barrel of his gun drifting slowly from her right eye to her left. Although she was gagged, Trinity could tell the old woman was begging for her life. She could see the slight tremble in his trigger finger before he ended it with a clean bullet between her eyes. As she turned to leave, Trinity could see how shaken Boone still was. She was surprised at how hard he had to try to hold it together. She would have done the same.. perhaps more.

The moment was heavy; almost too heavy for him to process all at once. Struggling to force air into his lungs, Boone looked up and saw a flash of red hair as Trinity made her way down the stairs. His first instinct was to let her leave, but he knew he had to say something. The girl had brought him the one responsible for his wife's sale, after all. Half-stumbling over to the doorway, Boone cleared his throat as he tried to speak.

"….Thank you."

Already halfway down the stairs, Trinity didn't stop or look back. "It was justice," she told him bluntly.

Boone opened his mouth as if to speak, but reconsidered. Justice. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone truly give this much of a damn about him. Sure, his comrades in the NCR had watched his back, but that was military. This girl wasn't under oath. She had no allegiance to him. If she was anything like most wasteland scum, she should have been more than pleased to leave without telling him what she knew. Maybe she was more trustworthy than he'd originally thought, unlike people around here..

"Trinity," he started. This time, she stopped and turned to face him. Suddenly confronted by her gaze, Boone lost the rest of his sentence. Even with the dark tint his sunglasses cast over the hall, her eyes were bright and determined. Maybe he needed to get away from Novac. There was nothing left for him here.

Trinity crossed her arms and stared up at him expectantly. Slowly, Boone made his way down the stairs to where she stood. His hand tightened around his gun as he slung it over his shoulder. She already knew what he was going to say.

"I'm coming with you."


	4. Chapter 4

Vulpes squinted against the thick, black smoke that the flames created. The scent of burning flesh hung in the air like a curtain around Nipton's town hall. He never tired of that smell. It meant that justice had been served. Justice was something they'd both loved. Trinity's 'handicap' was that she failed to appreciate the 'purity' of Legion justice.

Hoisting the skewered head of one of the towns' former occupants above him, Vulpes firmly planted the stake in the ground, watching the blood slide down and pool onto the earth. A slow, gentle trickle; like rainfall. Again, he found himself thinking of her. Trinity had loved to bathe in the lake on the scant occasions when it rained in the Mojave, and he'd loved to watch the moonlit drops of water wash over her smooth, light brown skin. He smiled inwardly. The thought of her was.. comforting.

Trinity had wanted out. Badly. He'd always understood that. A young, energetic girl like that…. why wouldn't she want her freedom? Still, Vulpes allowed her to roam the fort unescorted as she saw fit, and he would pretend not to notice her reading Caesar's books on days when she was sent in to clean his tent. He'd severely underestimated her from the start. If someone had told him that she would make it this far from his reach, he would never have given her so much as an inch.

"That's enough," Vulpes called back to his recruits. "I have business to attend to elsewhere."

This Boone guy, was strange. Trinity had decided this just as soon as he'd agreed to accompany her. Why hadn't he stormed off in some blaze of heroism to rescue his wife from Legion slavers? When she'd asked, he'd replied simply that his wife was dead, and offered no explanation for how he would have known this.

Trinity decided to just leave it be. The man was a damn good shot and knew how to follow directions. That was what mattered. His personal issues, she reasoned, should be none of her concern.

"We're getting close," Trinity called back over her shoulder. The man flanking her on her right said nothing. The sound of his boots shuffling along in the sand was the only way she'd known he was still following. It was just as well. The sound of an ongoing conversation was always a sure way to attract some raider or another. Suddenly, she heard Boone stop dead in his tracks.

"There's someone at our six," he whispered.

The three fiends charged toward them, all leather and knives. Looking back over her shoulder, Trinity drew her gun and squinted against the sunlight to try and make them out. She'd only just made out their grimy, sun-baked faces when Boone drew his rifle and fired two shots. Trinity smirked as she replaced her weapon. Boone's first shot had nestled right between the eyes of the leader, while the second passed cleanly through both of his followers.

It had been almost boring walking the wastes with Boone this past week. He hardly ever spoke, and landed most every shot. Trinity had never pegged herself for someone who went looking for trouble, but there was something about going three days without pulling a trigger that just irked her.

Trinity pulled open the rusty gates to East Freeside, Boone holding them open as she stepped through. Two children ran past her suddenly, startling her. They were playing some game that involved an old broken plasma pistol. It seemed to Trinity that the last sort of game they should want to be playing was a violent one. There would be plenty of time for that when they were older and shooting raiders in the kneecaps just to earn the luxury of walking down the road without being robbed. Or maybe they would _be_ the raiders. There was really no telling. Not like there were a hell of a lot of options in the wastes.

"Hey, you guys need a fix?" a male voice asked, interrupting her train of thought. A particularly grimy looking drug dealer emerged from the building to their right and gave a crooked smile. The man reeked of sweat, cheap alcohol and God knows what else. The odor immediately invaded Boone's nostrils. His gorge rising in his throat, he waved the man away hurriedly only to see Trinity take the dealer aside and begin speaking to him in hushed tones. She snatched three large bottles from him and shoved them in her bag, not waiting for him to count the caps she'd given him.

Boone shook his head. He'd known from the start that there had to be a catch to this job. So she was some kind of junkie. Even still, he'd worked for worse people. At least this girl seemed to be reasonably capable of making sound decisions. She didn't function like someone with an addiction. Then again, he'd only known her for a week. Anything could still happen.

The strip was much busier than the last time Trinity had been there. Due mostly to the large number of drunken NCR recruits, likely on leave. Feeling the crowd was getting too close for comfort, Trinity pushed on to the Ultra Luxe. The building seemed larger than she remembered. Its illuminated arches casting a bright aura into the darkening sky.

Eager to get in out of the steadily growing crowd of sweaty soldiers, Trinity and Boone trudged towards the entrance; the fountain mist cooling their hot skin as they made their way towards the staircase.

Boone silently looked on, trailing behind her as she strolled in like she owned the place. Their sun baked faces drew immediate attention from the casino's primped and polished customers.

"Good afternoon….." the greeter trailed off, looking her and Boone up and down. "Ahem… how may I be of service?"

Dumping her bag at his feet with a thud, Trinity squinted against the casino lights. "I would like my things brought up to my suite."

The greeter eyed her incredulously. "Your suite, miss-?"

"Trinity. Bon Vivant suite." The greeter instantly brightened.

"Ah! A thousand apologies madam. I scarcely recognized you."

"Yes, well, I scarcely recognize me," Trinity sighed. "So.. my suite?"

"Oh yes, at once."

Trinity waited patiently at the top of the stairs for the two greeters to bring up her unreasonably heavy bags. With much effort, they hauled in the backpack and duffel bag. Trinity smirked as she realized the caps inside hadn't made a sound. Without hesitation she placed ten caps into each of their outstretched hands for their tip and her hot bath water and sent them on their way. With a contented sigh, Trinity plopped down on the couch and snagged the wine bottle from the coffeetable.

"Ah…" she sighed happily.

Boone frowned as he closed the door behind them. His eyes swept over the room as he took in the two full size beds, immaculate couches and marble walls. So she was a druggie AND decadent. Great. First she'd told him there was a man she needed to find and eliminate with urgency, now here she was, lounging in a posh hotel like she didn't have a care in the world.

"So when are we going after your mark?" he asked.

There was a loud pop as Trinity opened the wine bottle. Smiling, she took a moment to inhale it's aroma. "All in good time."

"He's at The Tops, right?"

"Well, yes, but you can't expect me to be seen there looking like this," she said, gesturing to herself. The sand and dirt caked on her was very apparent. "Trust me, it's best if we lay low for awhile. Besides, it's getting late."

Trinity grabbed a slip of paper and a pencil from the nightstand and scribbled down a few sentences.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind taking this order down to the Gourmand while I take a bath?"

Knowing it wasn't really a request, Boone threw his things in the corner and grudgingly took the paper from her. Never in his life had he been anyone's messenger boy. This was beyond humiliating; even more so since he would have to ask for directions to this 'Gourmand' and have these stuck up white gloves look down their noses at him like he was some kind of radroach. Already hearing the bathwater running in the other room, he reopened the door and stepped out. Four white glove members carrying large steaming pots of water filed in behind him.

Trinity sat on the edge of the tub and stuck her fingers into the steaming water. It was a bit warmer than she would have liked, but would soon cool. She rummaged through an old knapsack near the sink until she found a large cake of soap the size of her hand. Holding the slightly misshapen rectangle up to her nose she took in the smell of apples and pears, and the faint scent of Brahmin milk. Trinity shed her clothes and sunk into the warm water.

She was immediately reminded of the loaves of soap her mother and the other women in her village would make every few months; the warm springs they would bathe in. Massaging the soap into her hair and skin, Trinity let out a frustrated sigh. She missed Zion terribly. More so, she missed the life she'd had there. Before she and her parents had been betrayed and her own brother had given them over to the Legion..

The door of the room opened slowly and clicked shut. Trinity could hear heavy footsteps and the fabric of the couch as it gave way to an occupant.

"Boone? Is that you?" she called.

"Who else would it be?" he replied curtly.

"Just checking," she muttered. He could at least _pretend_ he liked this job.

Boone sat on the couch for a moment, staring at the two plates of food the servers had brought up. Brahmin Wellington, as he'd read it from her note. The corn and potatoes beside it on the plate would have been dinner enough, he thought. He shuddered to think how much she would be paying for this meal. Carla had brought him to stay at the Ultra-Luxe once when they were courting, but even she showed some reserve about the caps spent.

"I'm coming out! No peeking!" Trinity called from the bathroom. Boone turned to face the opposite wall, his eyes drifting up to her silhouette on the wall every now and then. She _was_ kind of good looking for a woman who wandered the wastes. He took a small glance over his shoulder once she announced that she was dressed. The bathwater had transformed her hair into a thick mass of dark, wavy coils that looked nothing like the dry, sweat straightened strands she'd been sporting when they'd met.

A pink satin nightie clung to her curves, a reasonably clean old button up draped over her shoulders. With a sigh, she stretched out on the couch with her bottle of wine. The hem of her nightie shifted up her smooth thighs as she moved, exposing more of her flushed, caramel skin.

Absently, Boone licked his lips. Either this girl was a deliberate tease, or it had been far too long since he'd been alone with a woman like this.

Casting her gaze upwards, Trinity noted that Boone was still wearing his sunglasses. Even though he wasn't fully facing her, she was sure he was looking at her. She smiled to herself, secretly pleased.

Trinity sat her plate in her lap and started to eat. She hesitated when she noticed Boone was just sitting there, staring at the wall in front of him. "I'm pretty sure the white gloves have no reason to poison me," she assured him. "You can eat, you know."

Grudgingly, Boone picked up his own plate and began to eat. A tense silence filled with the slight sounds of chewing passed between them. Trinity set her plate down and took the wine to her head, not bothering with a glass.

"I see you don't talk much," she said finally, her lips tinged red from the wine. Boone swallowed roughly.

"Is that a problem?"

Trinity smirked. "No, not necessarily. I take it you like to listen."

"Maybe," he grunted.

"Maybe? Well, how about you tell me more about yourself."

"Like?" he asked. Trinity paused to think for a moment.

"Hell, I dunno. Maybe you could start with why you came with me?"

"You seemed decent," he said shortly. She waited for a moment to see if he would continue. He didn't.

"Decent. Compared to what?"

Boone sat up straight and looked at her. "You didn't have to do what you did. It wasn't your problem. Most people wouldn't get involved."

"Yeah, well I'm not most people. Getting involved is kinda my specialty," she replied, taking another long swig. Pausing to look at the bottle for a moment, she held it up to him. With the briefest hesitation, he took the bottle from her and had a drink himself. He exhaled sharply, surprised at how strong it was.

"Shit like that could get you killed," he said.

" It almost did," she said. More to herself than to him. Boone felt his curiosity get the better of him.

"This guy you're after. What'd he do?"

"Long story," she said, taking the bottle back from him and lifting it to her lips.

"Try me."

"The guy was rich, powerful, the works. Always had a plan. A real smooth talker. I got caught up, I guess. Next thing I know I'm on my knees in a graveyard and he puts a bullet in my skull," she muttered. "I'm lucky like that."

Boone frowned. That bit of info alone meant there were volumes more to the story, but he didn't feel like pushing for it. "Why not storm his place right now?" he asked.

"Benny needs a.. lighter touch. This is personal," she said.

"You make it sound like you needed his money to get by. Doesn't look that way to me," he said, gesturing to the whole room.

"I never needed his money," she started. "I just needed.." she trailed off, looking down into the wine bottle. After a long silence, she suddenly stood.

"I've already had too much to drink. I'm gonna turn in. Big day tomorrow," she said. She was suddenly unnaturally perky. Boone watched as she re-corked the wine bottle and fell into her bed. Yawning, she turned to Boone once more.

"Oh, and one more thing," she said. "You're gonna need a suit."


End file.
